Angel Wings
by ShadesofImagination
Summary: Living with someone else is difficult in general, but an 'Angel' that's not precisely a divine being? That's bound to cause a few problems. And, perhaps, if they're lucky, a few smiles. Follow-up/Continuation Collection from the 'Imaginary Heart' verse.


Sitting back, Sephiroth sighed.

The day had been long, the tension twisting between his shoulder evidence of more than one meeting and comment that he had yet to push aside. The review was meant to be professional and he knew that. It was routine and expected, an occurrence that he'd been dealing with since he was little more than a child and the fact that there was that little bit of irritation buzzing in the back of his mind was aggravating to say the least.

"Someone looks unhappy."

His jaw tightened, the flare of surprise overshadowing everything else. "If you would refrain from doing that, I would be most appreciative."

The short hum in response was more than he expected to garner from Cloud, given his tendency to comment and then retreat until pushed, but it was vague, at least and Sephiroth took some comfort from that.

Turning, he reached to pull his gloves off, glancing over the man occupying the chair closest to the window.

It was a high backed monstrosity that Genesis had found in some musty antique shop on a trip down south, with maroon fabric that'd been in need of a good cleaning and scratched wood that left much to be desired.

To be quite frank, Sephiroth hated it.

It'd been musty and in need of a good scrubbing, something he'd repeatedly insisted Genesis do considering it was he who had, so generously, gifted the burden to him.

It'd done little good, however and he'd been left to find a suitable stain remover that didn't make his eyes water and wood polish that didn't drown his apartment in a manufactured, artificial lemon scent.

Cloud seemed to like it though and that had been the chairs only saving grace.

His lips twitched at the thought and he shook his head at himself, depositing the gloves in their usual place at the corner of the counter.

'Grace' was likely a rather literal statement. He had a hard time believing that it was a common occurrence for angels to take an interest in old, smelly furniture.

"What's the smile for?"

"Chatty today, aren't you?"

Cloud shrugged, flipping a page in the magazine set out across his lap, 'The Modern Mechanic'. "Look like you need it."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Hm."

Another hum, but he supposed he'd been asking for that one. "Meetings."

"Hojo?"

"One or two," he replied, moving over to sit across from Cloud. "Nothing personal."

"No lab visits, you mean."

"Yes."

"Good."

The shuffle of papers is almost comforting, breaking what would be a stark silence and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, settling back against the cushions of the couch. "Quite."

When Cloud finally looked up, his shoulders shifted in the same, familiar way that they always did. The material of his shirt pulled taut across his shoulders, bunching in all of the wrong places and it never failed to make Sephiroth uncomfortable just listening to the way the wings he's always so adamant about hiding shift and crack underneath the skin.

"Do you need preening?"

Cloud's cheeks colored and his lips thinned, and Sephiroth had to bite back a smile.

He doesn't like to word choice, it's quite clear and even clearer that he'd been spending far too much time with Genesis if a comment or two is all it takes to amuse him.

"No," Cloud muttered, dropping the magazine onto the table.

"Are you positive?"

"Sephiroth."

"Yes, Cloud?"

He shook his head and a surge of smug satisfaction settled in the back of Sephiroth's mind.

"You're a brat," was the final response and, with a shrug, he brushed it off.

It was strange, really, and he preferred not to dwell on the fact that he never minded the mock insults or dry teasing that came from Cloud. He'd grown used to it, he supposed, having spent many nights listening to him talk about anything from Wutai history to how much he disliked the nurses in the lab.

Not that Sephiroth really begrudged him the last. He didn't enjoy the nurses any more than Cloud did.

Still, it was interesting, if nothing else and unsettling in some other way.

He wasn't supposed to be attached. He was made to be distanced, to be superior and in charge and yet, with Cloud, he felt like none of those things.

Cloud was sharp and quick when irritated, but always quiet. He'd never yelled, never turned a point around to lay the blame at someone else's feet and he was surprisingly humble for being of supposed divine influence. He was harsh in his assessments but caring when he decided he needed to be, the awkward reassurances Sephiroth remembered from childhood still one of his fondest memories.

Simply put, thought highly lacking in specifics, Cloud was Cloud, and learning to accept the realization that he would be surprising and he would tease, he would have expectations that differed drastically from those that the Professor held and he would be a bit fanciful with his story telling, contradictory to the end, had made living with him much more bearable.

Though he would never admit it, he was fond of Cloud's presence.

Silently, he was thankful.

"Stop thinking so much."

The sigh pulled him from his thoughts and he blinked, head tipping in question. "I'm afraid that's impossibility."

Rolling his eyes, Cloud stood, tugging out the wrinkles in his shirt. "Then stop frowning."

"I wasn't frowning."

"You're not the one looking at your face."

Shaking his head, Sephiroth sighed again, closing his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Thanks."

It was hard to ignore the urge to smile and when he heard Cloud step away, the soft sound of his boots against the carpet, he gave into the urge.

As Cloud was often reminding him, smiling was, apparently, good for the 'soul' and though he didn't particularly believe in that latter bit of the argument, he wouldn't deny that it felt good and, with Cloud, smiling was always easy.

Though, he wasn't about to tell him that.

He was rather sure that Cloud was already aware, after all, and there was little point in being redundant.


End file.
